Returning
by troisroyaumes
Summary: The peculiar relationship between Heero Yuy and Zechs Marquise, with intercolonial crime rings and political conspiracies thrown in for good measure.
1. The Girl

TITLE:  Returning (1/?)

AUTHOR: Tari Gwaemir

PAIRINGS: 1+6; implied 6+13/13+6, 5+13, 3+4/4+3, 2+1

ARCHIVE:  Email me at tarigwaemir@hotmail.com first, but I always say yes.

DISCLAIMER:  Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me, but is owned by Bandai, Sotsu, Sunrise and other big companies, whose names I do not remember.  I make no money from this piece of fanfiction, nor do I intend to.

SUMMARY:  A Gundam Wing tribute to the narrative style of _The Dispossessed_, by Ursula K. LeGuin

COMMENTS:  This particular fanfic is what happens when you've been reading too much into the Heero and Zechs scenes in Gundam Wing, with a healthy dollop of Heero-fixation added to the mixture.  Oh, and let's not forget a niggling little desire to become an assassin.

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Chapter 1: The Girl

She was sitting at the foot of the staircase, dressed in faded jeans and a denim jacket thrown over a dark green shirt, one long leg stretched out in front of her while the other was curled up under her chin.  The curve of her long eyelashes drooped against the smoother, firmer curve of her golden cheek, and her foot scuffed mechanically back and forth against the bottom stair.  It should have seemed like a nervous gesture, but it seemed robotic-too stereotyped and calculated to be simple fidgeting.  In her thin arms and legs, there was the tension of someone always ready to spring into action and the self-assured air of a dangerous person.  But to the casual observer, she was just a girl; a skinny, flat-chested, stick figure girl with a short boyish cut that let locks of dark brown hair fall over into her eyes.  Though prettiness may have faintly overshadowed her face, she didn't have the looks of someone who would make men's eyes trail after her, who would be followed by catcalls and whoops, who would appear in their sickest and most secret fantasies.  She was just an ordinary girl.  Perhaps on the tomboyish side, thought the man who had stopped to stare at the strange figure curiously.  _Certainly not a girl who'd faint at the sight of a cockroach.  Probably too sharp for her own good too, he added silently as he caught the flicker of a blue eye glancing in his direction.  He continued staring at her, but the girl remained still, silent, waiting. Just an ordinary girl...or so it seemed._

They were in a darkened building, lit up by harsh fluorescent lamps that still left dark shadows in every corner.  Narrow hallways branched off into even smaller corridors; it was a rabbit's warren, in which people disappeared, only to emerge nameless.  Like an abandoned warehouse, its steel beams were rusty and its air full of dust that sparked gold occasionally in the bright white glare of the lamps.  No one would believe that this place could be called a home, but indeed it was, for people lived here.

They were far from respectable people, of course, but few were poor.  They kept themselves aloof from the scum of the streets and the back alley crowds--no, though they were in an underworld now, they were once important in their own fashion.  They were the assassins, the thieves, the bodyguards, and the spies; people who had made a living off the war, being hired by the rich and faceless.  Once, this too was respectable: lying, killing, stealing--as long as one did not get too involved.  They were professionals; they had always been professionals--except now...they had become professional criminals.

They still made a good living, being at service to the mafias, the crime rings, the business moguls, but where they had once been recognized and accepted as part of the background to the war, they were now hidden away in shady neighborhoods like this one.  Quiet, clean, but forbidding.  Respectable people did not linger in these areas.  Yes, indeed, they had been driven into an underworld.  So what was an ordinary girl doing here?

The man watched her for a long minute, and finally said, "You shouldn't be here."

The girl lifted her head and looked into the man's eyes.  He lifted an eyebrow.  Normally, he wouldn't have thought her attractive, but there was a delicacy to her face, in the line of the jaw, in the slow blink of her lashes, in the fleeting flash of her profile.  She gave him a cold glare then rested her head on her hand and returned to a contemplation of the dust motes floating about in the air.

"This isn't a good neighborhood.  Didn't your parents teach you better than to wander into dark buildings?"

The girl gave a muffled sort of sound, almost like a snort. 

The man shook his head and turned to walk away.  _None of my business.  He gave the girl one last glance.  The face was...hard, its lines firm and decidedly ungentle.  But the eyes had half-closed in sleepiness, and their large steel blue irises had softened into a darker, warmer color.  __Like bluebells.  Beautiful.  The man scowled at himself for the thought._

"Eh, Inu, how've you been?"  Footsteps and a brash voice interrupted the silence.

The man looked back over his shoulder.  "Oh, it's you, Niko.  Not doing so well.  Did you get a job with His Lordship after all?"  

Niko spat and rolled his eyes. "No.  Lousy aristocrats won't take anyone except one of theirs.  My breeding wasn't good enough for him.  The former Romefeller princes think they still own the Earth and the rest of the universe while they're at it.  Stupid dogs showing off their pedigree."

"Too bad. Better luck next time." 

"Hey, who's this newbie?"

"Just some girl.  I told her to get lost, but she refuses to speak or move.  She doesn't belong here."

"Maybe she's one of those sluts from the next block.  They should know better than to walk into our turf," Niko growled, giving the girl an irritated glare.  "Hey kid, you hear me?  Get out of here.  We may do illegal business, but we're still a notch or two ahead of you folks.  I don't know whether you're a street rat or a whore, but either way, you don't belong here."

She didn't stir.

"Are you listening to me?"  Niko grabbed the girl's shoulder and shook her.

Before he knew it, his face was pressed against the wall, and one of his arms was twisted behind his back.  "Don't touch me," someone behind him hissed, then added, "and I'm not a girl."

It was a light tenor, not deep enough to be immediately characterized as male, but certainly not high-pitched enough to be female.

The hands that were wrenching one arm out of its socket and shoving Niko's head into the wall disappeared, and Niko staggered backwards, looking faint.  Inu could only stare.  Niko was one of the best bodyguards in the business--it would have been impossible for a normal person to simply pin him like that.  

He finally asked, "Who are you?"

The girl, or rather, boy, crossed his arms and said, "Odin Lowe.  Yoroshiku."

"But Odin Lowe is dead!"

"Hn.  I think I'm very much alive."

"Odin Lowe, the best assassin in the L1 cluster, who shortly disappeared after killing Heero Yuy?  You've got to be in your fifties at least, if you really are who you claim to be."

He winced slightly.  "No, not that Odin Lowe. His...son."

Inu spluttered, "That still make no sense!  Odin Lowe looked nothing like you!"

The boy shrugged.  "Perhaps I was adopted.  I don't remember.  He raised me; he trained me.  And right now, I'm assuming his name."

Niko was rubbing his sore arm with a dark look on his face.  "Why are you here?"

"Because I live here now.  We're neighbors."  Odin's face remained carefully blank, but the curve of his mouth gave the impression of someone who was extremely amused.  It was...very condescending.

"You weren't here before," grumbled Niko.

If anything, the amused almost-smile became even more noticeable.  "I moved in this morning."  The unspoken words "Shouldn't that be obvious?" were hanging in the air.

The two men shifted uncomfortably, and the boy shrugged and walked up the stairs.  "Hn.  The professionals of L1 are losing their touch.  How sad."

Niko looked furious, but was unable to think of a reply.  But both men's faces were red when Odin Lowe's last words drifted down, "Especially when they can't tell a boy apart from a girl."

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NOTES: The only reason for this opening chapter is entirely due to that line in Heero's profile that says that he's "often mistaken for a girl."  Yes, this is on Heero's profile not Duo's.  Also, by the way, the bluebells metaphor is an oblique Diana Wynne Jones reference, from _Castle in the Air._


	2. The Lightning Count

TITLE:  Returning (2/?)

AUTHOR: Tari Gwaemir

PAIRINGS: 1+6; implied 6+13/13+6, 5+13, 3+4/4+3, 2+1

ARCHIVE:  Email me at tarigwaemir@hotmail.com first, but I always say yes.

DISCLAIMER:  Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me, but is owned by Bandai, Sotsu, Sunrise and other big companies, whose names I do not remember.  I make no money from this piece of fanfiction, nor do I intend to.

SUMMARY:  A Gundam Wing tribute to the narrative style of _The Dispossessed_, by Ursula K. LeGuin

COMMENTS:  A short chapter but necessary in the overall scheme of things.  This story is hard to read chapter by chapter, but there _is_ an overall structure to it that will become clear.

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Chapter 2: The Lightning Count

When Zechs Marquise first met Heero Yuy, he did not know that the pilot of the strange mobile suit was only a boy, even younger than the Lightning Count himself.  Nor did he know that when you saw Heero Yuy from a certain angle, you would suddenly realize he was beautiful.  No, Zechs knew nothing about the pilot who sat behind the controls of Gundam 01, not even that he would become Zechs' greatest, and in many ways, his only opponent.  How could he? Heero was encased in a giant mask of gundanium, and as far as Zechs was concerned, the amazing suit itself was much more fascinating than the pilot.  Such speed, such power, such majesty--the suit far surpassed his Leo in more than simple statistics.  Wing Gundam possessed the elegance of a finely honed and deadly weapon.  The shooting star was forged in the blinding atmospheric heat to become the perfect sword.  Zechs, who had always been strongly affected by fairy tales (being after all, the lost prince to a fallen kingdom), couldn't help thinking of the fanciful analogy.  And underneath, the same question that always drove him to break records, dare the impossible and generally risk his life: _What will Treize say to this?_

Even as he abandoned his own mobile suit to fall with the gundam and its hidden pilot, he continued to silently think of Treize.  Even as he sailed through the sky, floating like a dandelion seed in the cloudless blue, he did not spare a glance for the earth spreading out below.  Instead, his eyes were closed, fixed on the image of his lord and leader, the perfect embodiment of the devoted soldier.

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NOTES:  Subtle parallel between Heero and Zechs as "perfect soldiers" and fairy tale theme.  Interpretation of Zechs' character largely derived from conversations with Lyd-chan, a.k.a. Lush Rimbaud.


	3. Professionals

TITLE:  Returning (3/?)

AUTHOR: Tari Gwaemir

PAIRINGS: 1+6; implied 6+13/13+6, 5+13, 3+4/4+3, 2+1

ARCHIVE:  Email me at tarigwaemir@hotmail.com first, but I always say yes.

DISCLAIMER:  Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me, but is owned by Bandai, Sotsu, Sunrise and other big companies, whose names I do not remember.  I make no money from this piece of fanfiction, nor do I intend to.

SUMMARY:  A Gundam Wing tribute to the narrative style of _The Dispossessed_, by Ursula K. LeGuin

COMMENTS:  Long chapter ahead as the politics and psychology emerge.  As usual, it is mostly dialogue.

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Chapter 3: Professionals

There was a knock on the door. And Odin Lowe Jr., once called Heero Yuy, steadfastly ignored it. If it were important, there would be a second knock. And if not, hopefully the nosy neighbor will have the good sense to retreat back to his own part of the building and leave him alone to more important business. Like monitoring the currents of power in the World Nation. Relena was refusing again to run for President, trying to avoid having the public position of leadership thrust upon her. Heero was a little puzzled himself by her reluctance--even the purest idealist can't be immune to the siren call of power--but he decided that she probably had bad memories of being the figurehead Queen of the World under Romefeller. Individual stories, erratic and unique, always disturbed the grand, slow-moving trends of history. He imagined future scholars writing treatises on the subject: contrary to expectations, a born leader refused her natural role in the world because of her psychological issues with power. He smiled slightly at the thought.

The knock came again, and Inu, now a familiar voice as the neighbor across the hall, growled low from behind the door, "Odin? There's some leo here to see you."  _Leo--not the mobile suit, but a law enforcement officer?  Heero turned abruptly, his body tensed and nervous. If the leo knew he was a professional, he'd just became a security risk to the rest of the building. He would have to get out of the L1 cluster immediately--if the leo wasn't here to arrest him already.  Shaking his head sharply, Heero forced his body to relax.  He always covered his footsteps, with the same thoroughness that had made him an excellent pilot.  He never forgot; he never slipped.  The leo must be here because of something else--maybe a speeding ticket or a parking violation.  Or maybe because someone else in the building realized he was still a minor and reported him for not being registered at a school.  He inhaled softly, then pressed a combination of buttons under the ledge of his desktop._

"The door's unlocked."

"Funny, I didn't even hear a click. And I was listening for it too. You must have set up a very sophisticated system here."

The voice was familiar.  "Wufei."

"Heero.  Or should I call you Odin?"

"Heero will do," he replied curtly and motioned the other boy to a chair.  Wufei was dressed neatly in a Preventer uniform that knew no wrinkle or crease, with his hair drawn back in the same tight tail as it always was.  Some people never changed.

Wufei returned Heero's assessing stare, then sat down abruptly.  "Don't worry. I'm not here to arrest you."

Heero lifted an eyebrow.  "That's no cause for relief."

"I just came to warn you."

"About what?"

"The professionals have become a serious threat to peace. They aren't a formal organization yet, but they've formed extensive networks on each colony cluster. An 'underworld,' I believe it's called. We've always known there was a population of highly trained and well-armed hit men left over from the war, but they used to be pretty isolated individuals. Now, they're coalescing into groups. This building is a good example."

"And?"

"Must I spell it out for you, Yuy? These professionals can potentially endanger the peace you and I fought to secure. All they need is leadership, and they'll quickly morph into something more than the hired mercenaries of intercolonial crime rings. They'll be like a small army, an army of terrorists or 'specials' which makes them even more dangerous!"

"They're not just thugs for hire. They have their own unwritten code of ethics; they scrupulously refrain from getting involved in any sort of politics. They're like samurai. They're very good at what they do, and they don't have anything else they can do for a living."  _Which is why I'm one of them, Heero added silently._

"That's not very reassuring, considering how the samurai clans took over and set up a military government called the Kamakura shogunate!"

Heero didn't speak.

"Yuy!"

"Aa?"

Wufei sighed loudly.  "Look, Yuy, the Preventers are going to crack down on the professionals soon. We've been planning an operation for months. We've managed to keep tabs on everybody in this building--even you. I have sources planted everywhere, and I've even known that you were here, from the very first day you stepped foot in the underworld. The L1 professionals are going down, and I'm giving you a chance to escape before it happens."

"Arigatou."

"Heero, you're an idiot. Why in space did you come here of all places? You'd be welcome anywhere, whether it was at Relena's side or the Preventers headquarters. Duo asked you to return with him to L2. Quatre offered you a high position at Winner Enterprises. Even Trowa said that he could get you a job at the circus if you couldn't think of anything else! So I'd like you to explain to me what you are doing here in a nest of good-for-nothings who still can't outgrow the blasted war."

"I belong here. This is where I came from, before I was made into a Gundam pilot."

Wufei looked a bit flabbergasted. "What?"

"Odin Lowe, the man who raised me, was an assassin. One of the best."

"The Odin Lowe?"

"Yes. The Odin Lowe who assassinated Heero Yuy. Ironic, isn't it? Dr. J never knew."

"Well."

"They're--a sort of family. As your clan would be to you."

"Ah. I see. Is there anything I can say to persuade you to get out of this godforsaken hellhole?"

"I'll watch my back. I won't be caught up in the Preventers' sweep."

"And you won't warn anyone else? I know no one can eavesdrop on this conversation--I'll bet you have a static generator built into the walls of this room. But I'm trusting you not to tell the rest of the professionals."

"They may be family, but that doesn't mean I have any special obligations to them. When's the sweep?"

"It's in place. It will happen when the situation is right. By the way, Heero, you never really explained to me the other part of the question. You've told me why you are here with the professionals, but why now? Why did you wait to hide yourself away as Odin Lowe until after the Mariemeia incident occurred?"

Heero glanced at his laptop, then looked down at the floor. After a pause, he pulled out a bottom drawer with his foot. Wufei leaned slightly to see what was inside. 

"A giant metal feather?"

"From Wing Zero."

"That's not much of an explanation, Yuy."

Heero gave a short laugh, then sighed. It was startling to see him so expressive. He smiled ruefully and looked at Wufei with a pained expression. "I can be--a bit sentimental."

"Yuy, get to the point!"

"It's my only relic of Wing. I offered it to Zechs as a goodbye present before he left for Mars."

"Zechs?" Wufei repeated incredulously.

"I didn't want him to leave. It was a miracle to find out he had survived Libra after all. Almost like a sign from the gods, telling me, 'no, you didn't leave him to die after all, he's alive, he's alive.'  I thought...well...you know, maybe he would recognize the feather, and maybe it would remind him of what our battles were like, and maybe he'd stay. It was a stupid string of maybes, but I did it anyway. But apparently those battles meant something completely different for him. He refused to take it. He wouldn't even look at me. And he...left. The very next day."

Wufei drew back into his chair and bowed his head. "I...think that I can understand."

"Was it so difficult to figure out in the first place? I came here, back to the world of my childhood, before my life as a Gundam pilot, so that I could forget all my memories of war, all the memories bound up with him. It was just an instinctive reaction at the time, but it's rather transparent, all the same." Heero smiled again, but it was a reluctant smile, as if he was too tired to even make the effort. But it still unnerved Wufei to see such openness on Heero's face.

"If Treize was alive after all...if you suddenly knew that you hadn't killed him...what would you have done?"

Wufei jerked his head away. 

"I've told you all this, because I had the intuition that you, out of all the others, might understand. I hope the intuition was right."

He whispered, "Thank you for being honest."

The other boy gave a snort of disdain. "You mean, 'Damn you for speaking what should have been left unsaid.' "

Wufei gave a bitter laugh.  "I come here to give you a warning, and you look into my soul. Is that why Quatre called you the Spaceheart?"

And Heero said coldly, his face closed and secretive once more, "Don't flatter me, Chang. It was obvious. We all knew. Especially after your erratic behavior during the Mariemeia incident."

"I see. I take this as a not-so-subtle invitation to leave."

"We Gundam pilots set great pride by our anonymity. No one who sees a Gundam must live to tell of it. Nor must anyone who sees the human behind the mask of the Gundam pilot. Omae o korosu."

"Some day, I suppose. If I don't kill you first, that is."

"Preventer and professional. It seems that the Mariemeia incident wasn't an epilogue, but a precursor. We are on opposite sides again, Wufei."

"But justice must be upheld."

"Hn."

They stared intently at each other, then without further words, Wufei left the room, even more abruptly than when he came in. His presence was erased as completely as if a virus had attacked a hard drive. He left no trace except for the open drawer, with a single white feather inside.

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NOTES:  "Leo" as law enforcement officer is taken from Anne McCaffrey's Talent series. Again, it's not my idea. Did I mention I was unoriginal?  The theme of unrequited love is introduced, which will run throughout the fanfic..


	4. Self-Destruction

TITLE:  Returning (4/?)

AUTHOR: Tari Gwaemir

PAIRINGS: 1+6; implied 6+13/13+6, 5+13, 3+4/4+3, 2+1

ARCHIVE:  Email me at tarigwaemir@hotmail.com first, but I always say yes.

DISCLAIMER:  Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me, but is owned by Bandai, Sotsu, Sunrise and other big companies, whose names I do not remember.  I make no money from this piece of fanfiction, nor do I intend to.

SUMMARY:  A Gundam Wing tribute to the narrative style of _The Dispossessed_, by Ursula K. LeGuin

COMMENTS:  Er…the story continues.  Or jumps backward, to be more precise.  Hopefully, people have got the hang of the story by now.

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Chapter 4: Self-Destruction

Once upon a time, in the middle of a duel, a knight saw the face of the dragon he was battling. And he was amazed to discover that beneath the reptilian scales, the hideous fangs, the flame-dripping nostrils and the glowing eyes, there was only a human boy.

_So young, Zechs thought as he stared at the small figure standing defiantly on the cockpit door. __So, this is the pilot that destroyed the pacifists of the Alliance and killed so many of my men. Why was he so young? During the few dramatic seconds before Heero Yuy pressed the self-destruct button, time seemed to slow to the pace of smooth honey, and Zechs scrambled to magnify the image on his screen, to get a closer look at the face of his enemy. Surely it was just a mistake of his eyes, that short, slender body, and if he could only sharpen the image, the boy would turn out to have a man's face, old and hardened after all._

He caught a glimpse, just before Wing Gundam exploded in a blossom of heat and light, of blue eyes under brown locks of hair. Although Zechs didn't know it, the face wore the same expression that he himself had had in the photo of his graduating class at Victoria. But he saw nothing more than the intense eyes before the small body was flung away from the door of the cockpit to lie in a pool of its own blood. Zechs inhaled sharply and leaned back in his seat. Was this...this boy the monster he was fighting? 

Suddenly the cockpit seemed too small for him, and he wished he could fling himself out of the crazy machine, throw off his heavy mask, and just breathe in the cold Siberian air for a moment. Then perhaps he could think clearly again, freezing the shock, the self-doubt, the uncertainty that lurked at the corners of his mind. He held nothing back. He was willing to die. _Are you? Can you? He angrily shook his head, but the thoughts crept back. __How can you live in such dishonor?_

One of the gundams approached and delicately picked up the pilot's slender body in one of its hands. An abstracted part of Zech's mind marveled again at the incredible technology that had gone into these mobile suits--how could such a huge machine be so responsive to the pilot's slightest movements?--but he was still locked in his thoughts as the gundam stepped back and waited warily. He lifted his eyes and saw the glowing green "eyes" of the enemy stare at him, questioning, testing. _Even they__ can see through me. Beneath this great metal shell, I am nothing, a coward hiding behind a mask. He snarled at the silent gundam, "Go! How can I possibly fight you now?"_

Perhaps that pilot understood, because the suit almost seemed to nod in acknowledgment and turned back into the shadows. Zechs too moved away from the battlefield, his hands resting limply on the controls, as he leaned his head back on the seat and stared up at the ceiling of his small cockpit.

"I am a soldier of OZ. I will obey my commander," he whispered out loud. Perhaps if he never stopped saying that, it would come true. He repeated the words again and again to himself as he flew back with the troops to the nearest Siberian base, where Treize was waiting.

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	5. A Renegade

TITLE:  Returning (5/?)

AUTHOR: Tari Gwaemir

PAIRINGS: 1+6; implied 6+13/13+6, 5+13, 3+4/4+3, 2+1

ARCHIVE:  Email me at tarigwaemir@hotmail.com first, but I always say yes.

DISCLAIMER:  Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me, but is owned by Bandai, Sotsu, Sunrise and other big companies, whose names I do not remember.  I make no money from this piece of fanfiction, nor do I intend to.

SUMMARY:  A Gundam Wing tribute to the narrative style of _The Dispossessed_, by Ursula K. LeGuin

COMMENTS:  Confusing but important subplots ahead, despite the fact that this chapter is almost entirely dialogue.

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Chapter 5: A Renegade

Heero walked into the poorly lit room, exactly ten minutes late. It was a peculiar brand of punctuality, arriving at the moment when the other person was beginning to be slightly apprehensive about whether you would show up at all. But Odin had taught him that people are easiest to read when they are nervous and jittery, and putting them off-balance from the start helped you pick up more than they intended to reveal.

He placed his laptop on the table, opened it, began to type, without once looking up at the men standing in the room. All dressed in black business suits, with stylish sunglasses of course--utterly useless considering the fact that he couldn't make out their faces anyway in the dim light, which was the way it was intended to be. Some stereotypes never changed. Heero resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Finally, one of the men in suits stepped forward and sat down across the table. "Odin Lowe, reputed to be one of the best professionals in the L1 underworld, said to be not only living up to his father's name, but even surpassing it. Yet you are only a boy."

"I am who I am." The unspoken words: _Take it or leave it--your chance to use the best of the best._

"I see, Lowe-san." 

Heero continued typing, quickly scanned the screen, then finally met the man's eyes. "It is customary for the client to state his request first, Hideki-san."

A pause. "I am not Hideki Yoruhito."

"No. You are Hideki Yasujiro. Nice to meet you."

"...Nani?"

"Foolish of Hideki-san to send a member of the clan, even if he is only an expendable cousin. Of course, it does explain the size of your escort."

"I...I am not Hideki Yasujiro, Lowe-san. To you, I am simply the representative of Hideki Intercolonial." He held out his hand.

Heero briefly glanced at the outstretched palm and ignored it. "Hai, Hideki-san."

Hideki Yasujiro frowned, but decided to refrain from further protests. Heero's face was carefully blank, but his eyes were narrowed in amusement.

The man cleared his throat. "As you may know, Hideki Intercolonial is the second-largest business conglomerate in space. No business group on Earth even begins to rival our size. We have only one rival--"

"Winner Enterprises."

"Hai. We are currently competing with them for a contract to rebuild the former lunar base for research purposes. The World Nation is hoping to later expand the initial basic facilities into a full-fledged colony. In other words, the contractor who wins the Moon Project will have a monopoly on all construction on the moon for the next few decades. We have already lost the Mars Project to Winner; if we lose the Moon as well, we will be completely ousted out of the market."

"Aa."

"Hideki-san is very interested in preventing Winner from winning the contract. Needless to say, he will go to any extent, even hiring a professional, if it means Hideki Intercolonial will gain an advantage in its bid for the contract. I have been instructed to pay you any fee you ask."

"Hn. Interesting."

"The Moon Project contract will be settled next Friday. Keep Quatre Raberba Winner distracted until then. Use any means possible."

Heero arched an eyebrow. "Hideki-san, I have not yet accepted your proposition."

"What? But did you not hear me say that we are willing to pay any sum you ask?"

"Please understand, Hideki-san. I must refuse this offer."

The man drew back in his chair and looked contemptuously at the boy. "I expected better manners from someone who claimed to be the best of the L1 professionals. To back out on an offer after agreeing to meet--"

Heero held up a hand. "Remember. I did not shake your hand. I have agreed on nothing. I owe you nothing."

He closed his laptop, tucked it under one arm like a suitcase, and stood up, gazing calmly down at the incredulous man. He murmured, "You cannot buy a professional with just money, Hideki-san," and left the room.

Back in the safety of his own room, he flipped up the laptop screen again.

"Could you hear everything, Quatre?"

"Yes," a tinny voice spoke from the speakers, "I caught it all. Arigatou, Heero."

"You're welcome."

"I've been wondering, Heero. If I hadn't hired you first to spy on Hideki for the last three months, would you have taken their offer?"

Heero's mouth twitched, and he looked as if he was trying to smile against his will.

"Oi, Heero, do tell! I've been dying from curiosity!"

"Curiosity killed the cat. And don't think I don't know why you're asking."

An unseen voice in the background called out, "I told you so."

Quatre scowled, "Well, he could just tell me anyway. Is it so hard for him to break his vow of silence on all things Heero Yuy just for once? After all, it's for a good cause."

"Yes, like taking money from my already slim purse to fill your rich coffers."

"It's just a small bet, Trowa, don't grouse about it. Or have you realized that you're about to lose money to me...again?"

"I'm not going to lose this one. I know Heero."

Quatre burst into a laugh and replied in a singsong tone, "Not as well as you think!"

Heero rolled his eyes. "What do you think, Quatre? I'm a professional. If you hadn't paid me first, what's to prevent me from taking the job? Besides, Hideki would have paid me more than you did."

Quatre's eyes widened. "Really Heero? You'd have taken a job against your own friend?"

Trowa snickered from the background, "What did I tell you Quatre? I know Heero. You owe me 50,000 credits."

Quatre looked visibly upset as he handed a stack of bills over to an invisible hand. "But...Heero...you couldn't possibly--"

Heero simply shook his head. "This is why professionals don't get involved in any relationships in the first place. They're too much of a burden."

Trowa added, "Friendship is built on trust, and you can't trust professionals unless you've hired them."

"But you're a professional, Trowa!"

"So?"

"Are you saying I shouldn't trust you either?"

"Well...yes."

Quatre sighed in disgust. "You...you...cynics!" His face abruptly disappeared from the screen.

Heero was about to sever the vidlink and close the laptop, when Trowa's face suddenly loomed up close with a serious expression on his face. "Wait, Odin."

"Aa?"

"I seem to recall you saying to me once that professionals can't be bought with just money. Why'd you back me and not Quatre? What happened to the professional's pride?"

"Well, I won the bet for you, didn't I? So how much of that 50,000 are you going to give me?"

Trowa gave an abrupt snort of laughter. "Hn. You're such a liar."

"The best there is in the business."

"Yeah...right. L1 is too soft. You wouldn't have survived with the mercenaries on Earth with all that kuso about honor and _bushido."_

"If you say so."

"Tell me, Odin. How does a bunch of lying, back-stabbing assassins become honorable?" Trowa asked, his voice taunting.

"Shut up."

"Admit it. Odin Lowe was a renegade. He assassinated the very man he was supposed to protect; he betrayed Heero Yuy for the Alliance's money. And you say that money can't buy a professional?"

"You don't understand; there were reasons--"

Trowa smirked. "You're such a liar. But I can't help admiring you for believing in your own lies."

Heero opened his lips to snap back a retort, but he could only stare at the screen, his mouth half-open, unable to speak.

"Bye, Heero," Trowa said quietly and cut off the vidlink.

Automatically, he responded to an empty screen. "Sayonara..."

He slid off his chair and sat on the floor, leaning his back against his desk. He reached up with two fingers to press the buttons that would turn off the brilliant white fluorescent lights of the room. Unable to see, he closed his eyes and tilted his chin toward the ceiling. 

In the darkness, he could hear echoes. _Sayonara, Zechs Marquise._

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NOTES:  More parallels between Heero and Zechs.  Oh, and I have no idea how much 50,000 credits is supposed to be in American dollars.  It is meant to be a sizeable amount of money, but not so much that Trowa goes completely broke.


	6. A Handshake

TITLE:  Returning (6/?)

AUTHOR: Tari Gwaemir

PAIRINGS: 1+6; implied 6+13/13+6, 5+13, 3+4/4+3, 2+1

ARCHIVE:  Email me at tarigwaemir@hotmail.com first, but I always say yes.

DISCLAIMER:  Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me, but is owned by Bandai, Sotsu, Sunrise and other big companies, whose names I do not remember.  I make no money from this piece of fanfiction, nor do I intend to.

SUMMARY:  A Gundam Wing tribute to the narrative style of _The Dispossessed_, by Ursula K. LeGuin

COMMENTS:  Suddenly the so-called "flashback" chapters have gotten much longer.  O_O****

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Chapter 6: A Handshake

They say that once, a boy looked into a still mere and saw, for the first time, his own reflection. Obsessed, he leaned forward to kiss it--or was it to embrace it?--only to watch it disappear with the first ripple of the water's surface. He pined away day and night by the mere, staring at his elusive love, trying to grasp it and hold it firmly in his arms.

Once, Zechs Marquise looked into the face of his enemy and saw, for the first time, his own reflection. He reached out to touch the boy who had suddenly appeared before him, only to watch him shatter into a thousand fragments, as if a finger's touch had broken the surface of the water into ripples. Obsessed, he did not pine away, but took what fragments he could find and glued them back together again into a facsimile of his enemy.

But he could not find the heart, and so the reflection was not yet complete.

"There have been rumors about you, Zechs," murmured Treize, in his fluid voice, turning his reproach into a song.

"Sir?"

"At ease, Colonel, at ease. After all, you outrank me in reality, my prince."

"Treize," Zechs began uncomfortably.

"Now, I ask you to be honest with me. Why are you rebuilding that gundam?"

"Is it wrong to study one's enemies?"

Treize laughed and flicked his wrist in an elegant dismissive gesture. "The Lightning Count does not need to study his enemies. He crushes them in the whirlwind of his passing."

"Treize--"

"Zechs, I am not going to pry into your private affairs. But rest forewarned that Romefeller might not share my discretion."

"I understand, sir."

Treize shook his head. "What did I say, my prince?"

"I _am at ease, Treize. No matter what you may say, I always recognize you as my superior."_

"Oh? Always, is it? I thought you were loyal to the Sank kingdom, not to me or my ambition."

Zechs bent to one knee, his long hair swooping down one shoulder to trail over his thigh. "Milliardo Peacecraft is dead. There is only Zechs Marquise, now."

Treize smiled mysteriously, his eyes narrowing gracefully. He murmured, "We shall see."

As Zechs came out of the office, he nearly collided with Noin, who had rushed toward him as soon as she saw him. She apologized and looked questioningly up at his masked face. "Nothing happened," he said and walked forward quickly. She had to run, undignified, after him to catch up with his long strides.

"Does he suspect?" 

"Probably. Noin?"

"Yes?"

"Find Heero Yuy for me, please? He's still alive."

"That's...that's impossible!"

"Take my word for it."

"Of course, Zechs," she replied sharply and saluted, clicking her heels in place. Zechs did not look back and continued walking.

"Isn't there something you're forgetting to tell Colonel Zechs?" Noin asked disapprovingly.

"I'll thank Zechs in my own way, by killing him tomorrow," Heero replied, without hesitating. He stared curiously at Zechs' outstretched hand, glancing up at the taller man, before gripping it firmly.

The hand felt small and bony in Zechs' long fingers. He really is...only a boy, Zechs thought disbelievingly. 

"I've never shaken hands with my enemy before," Heero said, his eyes a little wide, with one of his almost-smiles on his face, though it disappeared before anyone else noticed.

Zechs kept his eyes fixed on Heero, afraid that the boy was simply an apparition who'd disappear at the lightest touch, like Narcissus' reflection. He watched the boy speak to his friend as the two small figures climbed around the gundam, checking it over carefully. They had demanded that all the mechanics be cleared from the deck, and even Zechs was watching from the safety of a hidden window, as the two boys pored over the delicate machinery. Heero soon decided to move to his fellow pilot's gundam and Trowa left him alone to get accustomed to the suit. He walked back up the deck--and much to Zechs' surprise--to where Zechs had stationed himself.

"A word with you, Colonel," the boy said tonelessly, although for some reason, his voice sounded sarcastic.

"How did you figure out--"

"Where you were spying on us? Oh, Heero noticed you pass behind a wall that wasn't really a wall. He's seen these types of screens before. He was brought up as an assassin, did you know?"

"An assassin? But--"

"Most assassins--in fact, most professionals--are brought up with strict codes of honor that are far more complex than any unspoken laws that govern soldiers in battle. Similarly, Heero is...an extremely complicated person. It's difficult to understand why or how he does something."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I'm a professional myself, and although I didn't grow up under such a rigid ethos as Heero did, I know that one thing is universal."

"Please get to the point, 03, before you make me lose my patience."

"A handshake is a symbol of agreement, which binds the professional in loyalty and obedience to his employer. It is more important than any written contract--a professional never really agrees to a job until the handshake. That's why Heero has never shaken hands before with his enemy. I just thought you needed to know what you agreed to."

Zechs stared at Trowa, uncomprehending. "What did I agree to?"

"You've agreed to hire him in his full capacities as a professional, which also means that he will carry out whatever you ask him to do, with complete loyalty. In other words, you've just ordered him to kill you."

"I...see."

"You must realize, Colonel, the quandary you've just posed to Heero. Since you are his employer, he must follow your orders to the letter. Yet he has also pledged his allegiance to you, which means he must protect you at all costs. You've forced him to consider which is more important: obedience or loyalty."

Zechs blinked. He said quietly, "I never intended for that to happen. I only offered him my hand as a gesture of good will."

"There is no good will in war. This duel of yours is utterly meaningless, and by bringing him here, Heero's priorities have become even more confused."

"I will not distract him from his cause any longer than I have to."

Trowa nodded and turned to go. He hesitated and looked back over his shoulder at Zechs. He suddenly asked, with a hint of contempt in his voice, "Don't you think it's a little ridiculous for you to demand time and energy from a gundam pilot just so that you can figure out what to do with yourself?"

"Perhaps. But what else can I do?"

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NOTES:   Narcissus myth at the beginning of the chapter.  Um, I know it sounds contrived, but Heero's quandary is sort of like Zechs, being caught between loyalty and obedience.


	7. The Conspiracy

TITLE:  Returning (7/?)

AUTHOR: Tari Gwaemir

PAIRINGS: 1+6; implied 6+13/13+6, 5+13, 3+4/4+3, 2+1

ARCHIVE:  Email me at tarigwaemir@hotmail.com first, but I always say yes.

DISCLAIMER:  Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me, but is owned by Bandai, Sotsu, Sunrise and other big companies, whose names I do not remember.  I make no money from this piece of fanfiction, nor do I intend to.

SUMMARY:  A Gundam Wing tribute to the narrative style of _The Dispossessed_, by Ursula K. LeGuin

COMMENTS:  And the plot thickens…

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Chapter 7: The Conspiracy

The answering machine gave a loud, squawking beep and a burst of static, before a fuzzy image of Trowa's solemn face appeared on the small screen. "Heero? This is Trowa. Wufei wanted me to relay this message to you: what the hell do you think you're doing? His words, not mine. But he's not the only one who's concerned. You better come up with a good explanation for this, because Wufei's about to kill you, and I, for one, won't stop him."

The screen winked out, followed by another beep as Quatre's worried face appeared on the screen, "Heero? I know you're there; I've linked a computer to the camera in your phone. Please pick up," he said politely and waited for a response. "Heero? I can see you lying on that board you call a mattress, staring up at the ceiling, pointedly ignoring your vidphone!"

Heero made no response, but he turned away from Quatre, so that only his back was visible. Quatre rolled his eyes, huffed in mock indignation, and started babbling away in an annoyingly chipper voice, "So, Heero, how have you been since we last spoke? Are you still in good health? Haven't been locking yourself up in your room and letting your muscles atrophy, have you? Heero? You do know I'm going to bother you until you start talking to me."

Heero reached out to his desk and picked up a small paperweight. Without looking, he tossed it backward, and it landed, with perfect aim, on the disconnect button of the machine. Quatre was abruptly cut off, but soon the machine came back to life again with another squawk, and the voice had returned, on a colder note. "Heero, you have just become a potential threat to the stability of the World Nation, and if you don't explain yourself to one of us right now, Relena Peacecraft herself will quietly sign the document for your arrest tomorrow."

"What do you want to know?"

Quatre smiled thinly. "That's better."

"Well?"

"We've been hearing the name of Odin Lowe in connection with a conspiracy to sabotage the New Colony Project."

Heero said tiredly, "Not me."

"Do you know anything about the conspiracy?"

"It's not about the New Colony Project. That's just a ruse to distract you from their real plans."

"Who's behind this? And how are you involved?"

Heero was silent.

"Heero!"

"The professionals have begun a war."

"What?"

"There is a sort of blood feud between the L1 and L2 underworlds."

"Then Wufei was right. The professionals have been organizing themselves. But what does this have to do with--"

"The L1 underworld is currently the more serious threat, because they've allied themselves with a intercolonial political faction whose main objective is to stall the Mars Project. The faction believes that the colonies cannot continue their economic monopoly of space-based resources if the Mars Project is successful. Our old friend Hideki is one of the leaders, in fact."

"Ah. I see. So why are they pretending to target the New Colony Project?"

"Isn't it obvious? Who has been campaigning for the past few months against the New Colony Project?"

"I see. The main rival party, which currently dominates the L1 legislature, would be under suspicion for ties to the conspiracy, thus giving Hideki's party control of the colonial government. Come to think of it, I may be implicated as well. So then, why is Odin involved?"

"Leaders of the L2 professionals--who have little liking for L1, by the way--believed that the L1 underworld was endangering all the professionals with its plans. The underworlds have an unspoken agreement to avoid political quarrels, and L2 professionals have decided to enforce it. L1 bosses then ordered Odin Lowe, their finest assassin, to quietly eliminate the troublesome L2 leaders, but he refused to get involved. As a result, quite a bloody war has broken out between the two."

"And you have become a traitor to your own side."

"I suppose that's how they think of me."

Quatre asked in a low voice, "Is your life in danger right now, Heero?"

"The underworld on this particular satellite colony has never had close ties with the larger network of the L1 cluster. You may consider my building in revolt against the rest of the L1 professionals."

"They didn't succeed in killing you."

"No, my back was too well protected. But I think that's why they've leaked rumors of my connection to the conspiracy, in order to use the leos to get to me."

"Heero, evacuate L1 right now."

"I'm not a soldier anymore, Quatre. I don't obey orders."

"You are a professional, and I hired you."

"The contract was fulfilled, and you are no longer my employer."

Quatre sighed in exasperation. "You foolish, stubborn, suicidal--"

"Is Heero on the phone?" A voice called out from beyond the view of the vidscreen.

"Yes, and he's being--"

"Foolish, stubborn and suicidal. Well, that's no surprise." Trowa's face appeared on the screen, and with a sardonic smile, he said, "Hello, Odin."

"Hello, Triton," Heero retorted.

"Being difficult, I see. Well, have you managed to explain yourself? Or shall I tell Wufei to go ahead and grant you the death of a thousand cuts?"

Before Heero could reply, Quatre interrupted, "Apparently, there really is a conspiracy, but Heero isn't involved. Or rather, he is, but the conspiracy is trying to kill him too."

Trowa raised an eloquent eyebrow.

"Anyway, he could be killed any moment now, which is probably why he's been holed up in that room of his for the past few weeks."

"So that's why you didn't contact any of us."

Heero murmured, "The calls would have been intercepted. The only reason why I'm talking now is because I'm trusting that Quatre's linked to this phone through a secure connection."

"Doubly encrypted by top-secret Winner technology," Quatre said proudly, and grinned. "I'm going to relay all this information to Preventer headquarters. We're getting you out of there, Heero."

"I'm not leaving," Heero protested, but Quatre had already left the screen. 

However, the vidphones were not disconnected yet, and Trowa was staring at Heero, with an inscrutable expression on his face. "You should never have gone to L1 in the first place. You are not Odin Lowe."

"Then who am I? Pilot 01?" Heero laughed humorlessly.

"You are Heero Yuy, boy with broken heart."

Heero froze, his hand half-raised to his cheek. "Shut up, Trowa."

"Shut up yourself. You've just made me lose all respect for you."

"I'm not staying here to get myself killed, Trowa. The people in this building have risked their lives to protect me. Just as I once risked my life to protect Relena Peacecraft. Knowing that, how could I leave them?"

"Liar."

Quietly, fiercely, he whispered, "How do you expect me to stare at someone like Inu or Niko in the eye and just walk away? How do you expect me to abandon people who are fighting for me because they admire me, believe in me?"

"Liar."

"I said to them that professionals could not be bought with money. I told them to remember bushido. I can't leave."

"Liar."

"You were sick and tired of war. You never thought of the mercenaries as family. And out of the five of us, you were the only one to find a real home. The rest of us remained orphans. Do you understand? This is all I have for a home!"

Trowa watched Heero with a maddeningly skeptical smile. He finally said, "Did you know that Zechs Marquise, after being nearly killed by an unknown assailant, is returning to Earth, at the demand of his sister, for special medical treatment?"

Heero paled.

"And did you know that Lucrezia Noin, his fiancee, was killed in the same attack, while trying to protect him?"

He opened his mouth, but could not find the voice to speak.

"I'll leave you to reconsider your decision," Trowa said quietly and switched off the connection.

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NOTES:  In case you're confused, the World Nation is funding three major projects for the exploration and further colonization of space.  The New Colony Project builds, well, a new colony, at a sixth LaGrange point that has been recently calculated by scientists.  The Mars Project is essentially the terraforming expedition that Zechs and Noin left for at the end of Endless Waltz.  And the Moon Project is attempting to convert the old military base into civilian homes.  Hideki and his faction has won the contract for the New Colony Project.  Quatre, and his political allies, have won the contracts for the Moon and Mars Projects.  Hideki Intercolonial and Winner Enterprises are major financial rivals, although Quatre currently has more of a monopoly.


	8. The Exchange

TITLE:  Returning (8/?)

AUTHOR: Tari Gwaemir

PAIRINGS: 1+6; implied 6+13/13+6, 5+13, 3+4/4+3, 2+1

ARCHIVE:  Email me at tarigwaemir@hotmail.com first, but I always say yes.

DISCLAIMER:  Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me, but is owned by Bandai, Sotsu, Sunrise and other big companies, whose names I do not remember.  I make no money from this piece of fanfiction, nor do I intend to.

SUMMARY:  A Gundam Wing tribute to the narrative style of _The Dispossessed_, by Ursula K. LeGuin

COMMENTS:  Lots of obscure metaphors ahead.  If you dislike heavy-handed, unsubtle allegories, avoid this chapter at all costs.

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Chapter 8: The Exchange

The myth began with this: a young man--no more than a boy, really--fell in love with the sun.  But the tragedy began with this:  one day, the sun--impossibly, wonderfully and hopelessly--loved him back.  In an inadvertent moment, Apollo, that bright-haired, fiery Phoebus, reached out with glowing hands to comb his fingers through the long hair which mimicked so well his own golden rays.  The young man, with his large, bewildered, boyish eyes, turned with half-open mouth to the shining sun-god, to be met with caresses and kisses.  Intoxicated, he followed Apollo into a reconstructed Eden--racing unclothed with bows and javelins, falling together without shame into beds of soft moss, lost in their warrior world of immortal youth and strength...

But gods bring death when they dally with mortals.  The storytellers will tell you that jealous Zephyr, with the rosy, downy cheeks of a young boy, watched with envious, and increasingly despairing, eyes as he hovered at the edges of this changeless Eden.  They will tell you that the demi-god of the west wind, his breezes gusting into angry gales, forced his way to where the lovers played at games in the shade of laurel trees and frenziedly flung the sun god's discus toward his beloved's head.  The Eden shattered and disappeared.  Zephyr flew away into a spiral of madness.  And grieving Apollo, bent over his loved one's body, caused a bright red flower to bloom in the flowing blood...

Did you ever wonder why Apollo, the god of light and prophecy, had not the power or the foresight to stop Zephyr's murderous breath?  

At first, it was no more than a bright dot on a radar screen, but in a blink of an eye, the dot had become a giant, a Titan.   _It's a gundam...a new model?  _It stood, clothed in red armor and carrying a whip, and held out its glowing sword in a wordless challenge that Zechs recognized right away.  Without thinking, he rushed forward, his gundam's sword extended for the enemy's throat.  

The gundams hurled toward each other, as if they were pulled together by some irresistable force, like yin and yang trapped in one circle.  They fought like puppets, mindless and focused, recognizing only their enemy in the sea of data, which threatened to overwhelm and swallow them.  Somewhere, in the middle of the tempest, they found the words to link them back to reality.

"Heero Yuy!"

"Zechs!"

Somewhere, somehow, Zechs fought his head clear of the ZERO system's relentless assault on his senses.  Why should he fight with this boy?  He had returned to protect his kingdom, his childhood home, from a second destruction.  He called out to the other gundam, "Heero, you must confirm whether you're an enemy!"

There was no reply.  Instead, images passed before his eyes, too quickly for him to fully comprehend what he was seeing.  Burning buildings, mobile dolls, explosions...

He rememebered.  Those nightmares that had never stopped haunting him had returned with a vengeance.  What cruel fate, what ironic destiny, could have made those memories real once more?

The strange new gundam rushed toward him again, taking advantage of his momentary hesitation.  In a snap, all of his horror, all of his self-loathing and despair, turned on the unseen figure at the heart of that mobile suit.  _How...how...but you were there!  You, _you_, let it happen!  _Even as his gundam leaped forward to meet the attack, he cried in fury and hatred, "If the Sank kingdom has been destroyed, this battle is pointless!"

He clenched his eyes shut, trying to will away the images of destruction that continued to flicker across his screen.  But even as he focused on holding back his tears, he could still hear the gundam's blind thirst for victory.  He began to smile.  "Kill all those who wish to kill me.  Is that what you're saying, Wing Zero?"

With a twist of a lever, he was once again the Lightning Count, fighting faster and more furiously than ever.  The duel grew frenzied, a bacchanalic whirl instead of the usual measured, calculated waltz.  The two pilots felt themselves growing more aroused than ever, meeting attack with parry almost before their conscious minds could register the moment.  They screamed at their machines to move faster, wondering how the huge suits of metal could be so impossibly slow, when they could see so much, so quickly, so perfectly...

Then, the gundams stopped.  And two exhausted pilots fell from their cockpits.

Heero recovered first, his eyes opening against the basalt pebbles, the sound of crashing waves deafening his ears.  He stretched out a hand wearily toward the other pilot, but could not persuade his body to move closer.  Instead, he willed himself to sit up and blearily look around.  

Zechs groaned and opened his eyes, seeing Heero's brown, tousled head slumped on his knees.  He took off his mask, rubbing at spots where it had chafed against his cheeks.  He managed to gasp out, despite his aching chest, "Heero?  Are we alive?"

Heero glanced at him and stared.  His mouth dropped open, but he could not speak.

"Heero?"

"I...I think we are," the boy whispered.

Zechs sat up and looked more closely at the boy.  He lifted an eyebrow.  _Is that a blush on his cheeks?_

Heero turned away, his expression blank again.  "I never saw you without your mask before." 

Zechs tried to smile, but found it too painful.  "This is Milliardo Peacecraft's face.  Zechs Marquise wears the mask."

"So who are you?  Milliardo or Zechs?"

"I tried to be Milliardo.  But I think the only person I know how to be right now is Zechs."  He settled the mask carefully on his head.

"I've had more than one name before.  They used to call me Odin, after my father."

"Your father?"

"Not my real father.  I was an orphan.  But Odin raised me and named me after himself."

"Ah."

Heero fell silent.  They stared out at the sea beyond the cliff.  Slowly, Heero edged himself toward  Zechs until they sat side by side, their arms around their knees.  It was a comfortable silence.

"It seems we both haven't adjusted to these new gundams."

 Heero sighed.  He got up to his feet and turned, meeting Zechs' eyes with his own.  "Epyon told me you're an obstruction to the path I have chosen."  

Zechs blinked.  "I see."

They could see the lights of approaching planes and carriers.  Heero tossed his helmet to Zechs.

"What--"

"I'm taking the Wing Zero.  I'll take the dolls coming by sea."

"But the Epyon?"

Heero lowered his eyes and stared thoughtfully at the ground.  "Treize built that gundam.  I think I don't really understand him well enough to pilot it, though."  With that, he dropped silently off the cliff, toward the fallen gundam.

Zechs stared at the helmet in his hands.  In his fancy, he thought he could hear the slow whistle of a discus whirling through the air, like the sharp _zing_ of the guillotine or _swish_ of the scythe.  _I can't escape you.  Why can't I escape you?  Even now, after casting me out like a used doll, you command me against my will.  _He stared up at his new mobile suit, running his eyes over its wine-red armor, its scale-like whip.  He could almost see Treize turning to face him, his shoulder cape swirling for added dramatic effect, a wine glass in one gloved hand and a rose held out in the other.  That aristocratic mouth curving into a charming smile, those deep blue eyes ordering him to accept...

He climbed into the cockpit.  Beneath the gundam's foot, a red flower bloomed.

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NOTES:  Er…Treize is Apollo.  Zechs is Hyacinthus.  Heero is Zephyr.  (It's supposed to be an awful pun, west _wind_ and _wing_…yes, I know it's not funny.)  So, Heero delivers the instrument of Zechs' descent into madness, which is sort of like death.  (Well, the death of his sanity, anyway.)  Just like Zephyr blowing the fatal discus towards Hyacinthus' head.  But in this case, Treize is the one who is ultimately responsible, since he created the Epyon and intended for Zechs to pilot it.  The insinuation is, in this version of the myth, Apollo's discus killing his poor besotted lover is no accident.  And it _does_ make sense.  If he's the god of prophecy, why can't he tell the future when it matters?  (I'm willfully ignoring the Greek belief that no one can escape his or her destiny.)


	9. Revenge

TITLE: Returning   
AUTHOR: Tari Gwaemir   
PAIRINGS: 16; implied 613/136, 513, 34/43, 21   
SUMMARY: A 16/61 romance against the backdrop of political conspiracy   
DISCLAIMER: Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me, but is owned by Bandai, Sotsu, Sunrise and other big companies, whose names I do not remember. I make no money from this piece of fanfiction, nor do I intend to.   
ARCHIVE: Email me at first, but I always say yes.   
COMMENTS: This particular fanfic is what happens when you've been reading too much into the Heero and Zechs scenes in Gundam Wing, with a healthy dollop of Heero-fixation added to the mixture. Oh, and let's not forget a niggling little desire to become an assassin. 

================================================================ 

Chapter 9: Revenge 

He pressed the buttons underneath his desk in rapid combinations and waited for the heavy steel door to slide open behind him. He stalked outside, pushing off his toes with each step, swinging his arms with military precision. There was darkness in his eyes. 

Heero rapped on Inu's door with three sharp knocks and two softer taps. 

Inu called out suspiciously, "Eh? Who is it?" 

"This is Odin." 

The door opened with a slam, and Inu peered out incredulously. "Odin? But it's not safe--" 

"I don't care. I need to speak to the clan right now, but I don't have the seniority to call a meeting. If you would oblige me--" 

"No one would dispute your right to address the clan, Odin." 

"Still, I would like to observe traditions." 

Inu nodded and abruptly turned back to his room. "The main hall, in an hour." "/Arigatou, onii-san/." 

---------------------------------------------------------------- 

Heero entered the hall early, before anyone had even received the summons. It was a wide, vast room, with a concrete floor and no windows. Metal beams crisscrossed their way across the ceiling, the remnants of an intricate scaffolding that was never fully disassembled. He could see his footprints in the thin layer of dust that seemed to coat the building, not a sign of age, but of incompletion, this giant unfinished construction project into which the professionals had burrowed and from which they had created their hive. 

The main hall was idly decorated with calligraphy scrolls and wall screens, a sad attempt at decorating the otherwise empty and deserted room. Heero began to trace an infinity symbol with his footprints in the dust, placing his feet in the same tracks over and over until they began to merge and smudge into a figure-eight. He stared up at the blue and orange light bulbs hanging from the ceiling in odd cage-like holders, the brighter fluorescent lamps taped securely to some of the lower beams. He imagined walking on that precarious ceiling, leaping "down" from beam to beam until he finally reached the concrete plane that mirrored the floor he was standing on now. 

"Odin?" 

He turned around and faced the twenty or so professionals who had trickled one by one into the hall. "/Minna-san/, I must apologize for putting the clan at risk by my individual actions. It is a poor way to repay your generosity in adopting me." 

"Nonsense, Odin. If it weren't for you and your connections, we wouldn't even have jobs," Niko replied gruffly, shuffling one foot back and forth against the floor. He glanced down, looking embarrassed. "Besides, this clan wouldn't have held itself together without you. Truth is, it wasn't even really a clan until you reminded us." 

Heero's face remained blank. "Nevertheless, you are all in danger as long as you stay here and hide me. And I have come to a personal decision that may sign your death warrants. If the clan decides that it cannot support me in my new mission, then I must leave." 

"Odin--" 

"/Minna-san/, I have decided to declare blood-feud with the leaders of the L1 underworld and their political allies. This morning, I informed the L2 bosses that Odin will defect to their side. If the clan does not wish to join me in this feud, I will remove myself so that I will no longer be a security risk." 

Inu frowned, his hands on his hips. "Odin, why now? Why are you doing this?" 

/I've been hearing that question all too often lately./ Heero closed his eyes and pushed his bangs back from his forehead. "They have shed the blood of someone to whom I swore my loyalty. Someone who has shaken my hand and asked me for my service. The contract was never fulfilled, so /bushido/ demands my vengeance." 

"Is your master dead?" 

"Not yet." 

One of the other professionals murmured, "Is it necessary to follow this code to the letter, Odin? No one doubts your honor." 

Heero let out a sharp breath. He whispered, "It is /not/ a matter of honor." 

Inu stepped forward. "I'll support you." 

"Me too," Niko declared, stepping forward himself. The others followed suit, forming a circle around Heero, who looked up at them with his usual expressionless face. He looked calm, but he felt an ache in his heart. They were following him into war, and they didn't even seem to know it. 

---------------------------------------------------------------- 

Heero rappelled down the wall, descending effortlessly with only one hand on the rope. He looked up at the small black sphere screwed securely into the wall and half-nodded to himself in satisfaction. 

"What does /that/ do?" Inu asked incredulously. 

"It's the last component of a motion detector system. This sensor, in combination with three dozen other sensors throughout the building, will feed back to my computer and report any movement into and out of the building. In case the intruders manage to escape the security cameras." He glanced at the man suddenly, a little apprehensive. 

"I hope you don't mind, /onii-san/." 

"Hm...I don't think I have much of a choice." 

Heero smiled slightly. 

A man poked his head into the room. He lifted an eyebrow at the new devices installed around the hall and nodded to Heero. "They're here." 

"Aa." Heero picked up his equipment and walked to the front entrance. He suddenly stopped, staring in mild surprise at the door. 

Two professionals were escorting a blindfolded young man into the building. Though most of the boy's face was covered by the blindfold, Heero immediately recognized the long brown braid that trailed behind him. 

"Duo?" 

The boy shook his arms free of the escorts and wrenched the blindfold off his head. He quickly glanced about his surroundings and turned toward Heero. He stared, then broke out into a wide smile. "Hey Heero!" 

"What are you--" 

Duo interrupted, "I could ask the same of you. I'm here to meet Odin Lowe, Jr." 

"I /am/ Odin." 

Duo simply huffed. "I more or less guessed when I heard the name. 'Sides, Quatre called me before I left." 

Heero narrowed his eyes. "You didn't tell him that you were coming here, did you?" 

"Nope. After all, at the time, I thought I was just doing an ol' friend a favor. Didn't realize at the time that the L2 underworld was at war." 

"How in space are you an old friend of Boss Renzo?" 

Duo grinned even more widely. "Isn't it a /stupid/ name? On the streets, we used to call him Moonface or Doughboy, because he was so fat and pale, even though he'd been starving on the streets for quite a while by then. He was the oldest boy in Solo's gang. Turns out that he survived the plague and scrabbled his way up to the top of the L2 professional hierarchy. And now, we call him Boss." 

"Why did he send you? I was under the impression that he'd be sending his second-in-command." 

"I /am/ his second-in-command, genius boy. Or one of them, at least. I keep tabs on the black market. Nothing's stolen on L2 without it coming to my attention first." Duo abruptly stopped smiling and glared at the other boy. "And that's all I'm going to tell you, /Odin/. I thought you were never going to kill again, Heero." 

"I haven't." 

"Oh?" 

"I've spied, hacked, stolen, but I haven't killed anyone under contract yet." 

"And yet you've built up /such/ a reputation," Duo murmured, shaking his head. 

"Amazing what rumours and a borrowed name will do for you." 

"So Heero Yuy, Odin Lowe Jr., nameless pilot 01 extraordinaire and ex-best friend...what can /I/ do for you?" 

---------------------------------------------------------------- 

"/What?!/" 

Heero sighed. "I knew you'd react like this." 

"I can't /believe/ you! What happened to 'I haven't killed anyone under contract yet,' you bastard?" 

"I have my reasons." 

"You...you--" 

"Duo--" 

"/Bakayaro! Shibalnom!/" 

"Enough with the foul language," Heero cut in impatiently. Duo pursed his lips, breathing hard. The two boys stared at each other. 

"Fine. Name me one good reason why I should let you get away with this, instead of letting Wufei hunt you down and put you in handcuffs." 

Heero hunched over, his elbows on his knees, his head bent forward, letting his hair fall down into his eyes. There was a strange smile on his face, small and angry. Duo squinted, trying to get a better look at the other boy's expression. "Heero?" 

"They tried to kill /him/." 

The voice was so low that Duo wasn't sure whether he'd heard properly. "What?" 

"He may die. /Again/. He came back from the dead only to die again." 

"What the hell are you talking about, Yuy?" 

Heero buried his face in his hands, pressing his palms into his eyes until he saw spots. 

"Are you planning to translate this into ordinary conversational English anytime soon, or do I have to call Quatre and ask him what's going on?" 

"Quatre doesn't really know the full story." 

"Fine. Wufei then. Or Trowa. I'm sure Trowa knows." 

A small, muffled voice choked out, "Zechs. They hurt Zechs." 

For a moment, Duo was dumbstruck, but his face soon twisted into fury. "Heero, you are an absolute idiot! You mean to honestly tell me that you're going to go out and assassinate the L1 leaders out of /revenge/?" 

"I'm offering to sell my services to Renzo, in return for his protection of my clan." 

"No way." 

"It'll end the feud." 

"You're absolutely insane, Heero Yuy. Oh, and stupid. Did I mention stupid?" 

"You don't understand it, do you Duo?" 

"I--" Duo stopped. He flushed. 

"Have you ever had someone that you'd kill for? Even if it meant becoming Shinigami again? Even if it meant fighting another war? Even if it meant the nightmares would return?" 

Duo stared helplessly back at him, with an almost agonized look on his face. He opened his mouth, wavered as if he would speak, then closed it again, defeated. 

"Even if he'd never look at you without pain in his eyes...even if he'd die without you seeing him once more...someone who you'd /kill/ for--" 

"I /hate/ you, Yuy!" Duo almost sobbed and ran out the open door. 

================================================================ 

NOTES: I am not quite sure whether the whole scenario with the professionals' "clan" is idiomatically accurate. In Korean gangs and mobs on television, the younger members refer to the older members of their group as /hyong-nim/, which should translate to /onii-san/. Whether gang members in Japan will actually speak this way to each other is beyond my limited knowledge. Oh, and /shibalnom/ is a very bad insult in Korean, along the lines of "you fing a," which I learned from my oh-so-silver-tongued classmates. I know almost next to no Korean expletives otherwise. 

TBC 


End file.
